And every one of them would have been slain had not Jason bethought him of Medea’s sling and stone. Aiming at the chief of the giants, he let fly, and straightway the army vanished like the phantoms of a dream.
The king began to be afraid, for he was coming to an end of his spells. He felt sure he had been betrayed, but could not guess the traitor. But again he pretended friendship, and said: “That, too, was very well done. I see there is something in you Greeks, after all. But it grieves me to the heart to tell you that the most terrible guards of the Golden Fleece still remain—a mighty dragon that never sleeps, but watches the Fleece night and day. If you can kill him—why then—”
“I can but try,” said Jason. So he and his comrades were guided by winding paths to the foot of a tree on which hung the Golden Fleece, splendid in the sun. But at the foot of the tree was a dragon that could have devoured ten times as many, armor and all, with one crunch of his jaws. And he breathed forth such fiery pestilence that none could come near.
Truly it seemed at last as if the adventure was to be in vain.
But, at midnight, Medea came to Jason as before, and gave him another herb, and said, “Take this—and remember your vow.”
Jason was not thinking of the vow, but only of the dragon. The next morning he set forth alone, and having found his way to the tree, waved the herb before the monster. No sooner had the smell of it reached its nostrils than its eyes began to droop and close, and presently the ever-watchful dragon was sleeping soundly. Instantly Jason darted past him, snatched the Golden Fleece from the tree, and hastening back to the palace, displayed it before the king’s astonished eyes.
“Seize the robber!” cried King Æetes, to his guards. But he had come to an end of his enchantments: Jason’s comrades rallied round their captain with drawn swords, and made for the shore.
The king raved and stormed. “Fetch Medea to me,” he cried; “she shall raise such a tempest as will sink the foreign pirates to the bottom of the sea.” But even as he spoke, in ran one of the slaves with the news—
“The Princess Medea—the Greeks are carrying her away!”
“Medea—against her will? No!” cried the king, who now knew who had betrayed him. “There is no power on earth that could make her captive, or carry her away unless she chose to go. Absyrtus,” he said, turning to his son, “hasten after those brigands, and bid your sister return, and I will follow with my whole army to cut them off from their ship and destroy them all.”